


Stick To The Plan

by Coasilous03



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), More tags to be added, Multi, Slow Burn, and also no magic dicks, and these are my fav characters to write, anything more would be too hectic, can you tell ive never written a slow burn before??, character is a bit of a perfectionist, just undertale and underswap, lotta pining, maybe even ocd??, really slow burn, sorry - Freeform, this might get a little saucy but itll be tasteful porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22237855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coasilous03/pseuds/Coasilous03
Summary: Your philosophy is complicated, lengthy and specific, just as the entire moral compass of a living being should be. But it boils down to a notion that four skeletons are about to majorly screw up:Stick to the plan.
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Asgore Dreemurr/Toriel, Papyrus (Underswap)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (Underswap)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 27
Kudos: 93





	1. Normal Is A Bit Of A Stretch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins...

Another day, same as the last. Wake up, go to work, deal with shitty clients with shittier tattoo ideas, go home, eat dinner, go to Grillby's.

Like clockwork, each other patron would come at a specific time as they get off work or get ready for work. That nice bunny guy with too many kids at 7. The plant guy at 7:30. The skeleton in the ketchup-smelling jacket at 7:45. Those horse guys who probably hated each other but carpooled at 8:00.

Everyone at the bar vaguely knew each other enough to be able to give each other lifts home. You, one of the few people with a car, was usually someone's designated driver and would take some wasted fellow home before going home, showering, and passing out for the next day.

You wouldn't call it boring as much as you'd call it secure. You had a schedule, a routine, that had held you over for the better part of a year. It wasn't perfect, and it sure as hell wasn't healthy but it was comfortable. It was never off by more than a few minutes, and you were happy.

This day, however, was hectic. You had missed your alarm, gotten dressed in a confused, rushed haze, and endured a 5-minute ribbing from your boss before working through a day where no one came into the studio accept a nervous teenager and a group of men who smelt like beer.

You went home, paid off some bills and rushed to the bank to get some cash, then to the gas station to buy a corndog before high-tailing to Grillby's, where it seemed everyone else had been having just as hectic as a day as you. 

The bunny and the horses were early. The plant had been an hour late. The skeleton hadn't shown up.

As each day after had been calmer and more predictable, the only excentricity had been the preceding lack of the skeleton, something even the barkeep hadn't anticipated, if the untouched drinks and burger placed in his usual spot had been anything to go by.

After five days, the flame-man had only stared at the spot before shaking his head and skipping that part of his routine, polishing a glass and meandering back into the kitchen.

After a week, however, he had finally showed up.

Eleven minutes earlier than his usual time, he and another skeleton pattered into the bar. The usual skeleton looked more tired than usual, and the new one looked all the same.

Grillby had looked at them in confusion before the usual skeleton had ordered an oddly requested bloody mary and an equally strangely ordered honey tequila. They both sat at the bar, and the ketchup-smelling skeleton greeted the onslaught of questions from other patrons with deflections and vague mentions of cousins.

And the new skeleton soon became part of the routine. He was taller, skinnier, and seemed to wear nothing but the same ratty orange hoodie. After your first time of daring to sit at the bar with them, you had picked up the old skeleton's name to be "Sans" and the new one's name to be "Stretch". You could only assume (and hope) the latter was a nickname.

But you couldn't be one to judge. Monsters had only come up a few years ago, with all their oddities and appearances. You couldn't assume the normalcy of their names, as you had no concept of what was "common" in their culture.

This bar that you had been nestling yourself in after work for ten months was monster run - it was very popular in the Underground. You were one of the few humans who dared to attend, and the only regular. You were good for your tab, though, and that was good enough for the barkeep.

So now "Stretch" was with Sans as part of your routine. Wake up to your newly added five alarms, go to work, deal with regrettable tattoo choices, go home, eat dinner, go to the bar. Where Sans and Stretch now tried to talk to you constantly, drinking faster than usual and letting their beverages make conversation. 

You mostly kept replies to a minimum, humored their drunken questions about humans, and tried to tune out their conversations that you weren't supposed to hear. They were silly and friendly, enjoying conversation with anyone.

Anyone, apparently, except each other. Sans loved puns, Stretch detested them. The taller one was constantly sending nervous glances at the piss-drunk rabbit in one of the booths while Sans was always laughing with him. They had completely contrasting personalities aside from their equally lax auras.

It was almost amusing when one said something and the other almost visually disagreed, or when they'd trade challenging glances over a question.

It seemed that your schedule changed in one more regard, as you found yourself eating dinners at the bar if only to see the two more. Grillby now sat out both of their orders beforehand, and the dogs who sat together near the bar were looking eagerly at the door minutes before they'd arrive.

The newcomer had quickly asserted himself into the "normal" of the bar, becoming part of the warm lights and rancorous laughter. He was familiar, and a bit more present than Sans. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't been vying for free spots near them at the bar every night.

As everything settled down and you were confident in your slightly altered routine, life grew brighter. Summer changed to fall and more people were hired into the parlor, bringing with them fresh college nerves and new potential. 

At the bar, more people were filtering in, including a new guy a few years older than you who was a pleasant conversation holder. He was intrigued by monsters to a degree that he had soon started dating one, gossiping about their "crazy anatomy" - a conversation you had discreetly steered away from.

A few times you had skipped the bar entirely, instead opting for walks in the park or under the city lights, trying to bask in the evening sun before the days grew shorter. It was nice, grounding yourself and surrounding yourself in white noise, but you often found yourself missing the familial voices of bar go-ers.

You weren't, however, lacking in skeletons. As you enjoyed the latter part of your days at the park occasionally, you just as occasionally spotted two boisterous skeletons and one wild white dog bounding the fields of the park. They were incredibly loud and dressed in bright colors, startling birds and anyone else in their vicinity into fleeing.

Their disruptions had, too, become a part of your schedule, seeing them about twice a week running with their malamute as you walked the length of the bike paths. You had wondered, vaguely, if these two were related to Stretch and Sans, but then figured that was presumptuous and left it.

You were content. With your life, with your schedule. You were satisfied. These new additions were changes you could work with to keep some consistency in your schedule. 

On most days, at the bar, you could bask in the warmth of the company you had with others. You sat at the bar and Stretch greeted you idly, Sans leaning around him to wave. You spoke, drank, ribbed Grillby a bit, and enjoyed each other.

Despite all these changes to your schedule, you were still happy. You smiled, Stretch smiled, Sans and the skeletons at the park and the patrons at the bar and the new artists at the parlor all smiled. 

You drove the bunny home again, and he smiled as he waved goodbye and missed the doorknob four times before opening the door. 

You smiled at yourself in the mirror as you got dressed for bed that night.

You smiled as you fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never really have a plan for these sort of things but imma... try... to plan this shit show out


	2. And His Name Was Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dogs making love interests meet is my favorite romance cliche: a saga

Waking up on that brisk morning in October, something felt vaguely wrong. You checked your clock to see if you had woken up at the wrong time, then again to see if you had read it wrong. You hadn't left anything in the oven last night, nor had you forgotten to lock your front door. Your purse was on the kitchen counter, your keys on their peg by the door, you work clothes laid out in the bathroom.

Blearily, you tried to shake the feeling, before stepping out the door with a banana in your hand and your purse over your shoulder. You were out five minutes earlier than usual and took the time to make sure the bunny guy hadn't left anything important in your car last night. You drove the quick few minutes to the parlor, shrugged off your jacket in the breakroom, and greeted the trainees for the day.

The feeling persisted throughout the day, and as you settled down with a few slices of pizza after work you noticed how beautiful of a day it was. 

You hadn't been to the park in a while, so you slipped into some cozy clothes and started to the park, rushing through your dinner in an innate desire to greet the evening

The park was quieter than usual, besides the familiar pair of boys and their large, loud dog. The clouds were thick and languid in their trip across the golden sky as the sun started to set. You had stayed a bit later than usual to visit a food vendor for a corndog, and even the skeletons were starting to pack up. 

You watched the shorter one put his hands on his knees and call for the dog, who was somewhere between you and him. A squirrel darted out and momentarily captured the dog's attention, it's head and ears perking up. The squirrel scurried out of view and the dog was looking at you now.

You froze, the corndog held to your mouth. The dog froze. The skeleton, still leaning down, called for the dog again. It did not listen.

Launching off of its haunches, it started running towards you, tongue flying out of its mouth. You were still frozen in panic, watching a cute but large dog race after you for the corndog. Before any higher thought could reach you, you were knocked over, grass staining your elbows as you met the ground.

The dog, having toppled the obstacle keeping it from a snack, happily dug into the corn dog. You had half a mind to reach out and pull out the stick before it ate that too.

As the two skeletons yelled out and raced over, you distantly fixated on the motion and movement on the dog's jaws. How they flexed and relaxed, almost rhythmic in their movements. Its teeth were sharp and white, even and almost shiny as they were bared to the air. The fur around its jaw was a pristine white, framing its gentle face.

Then the dog was abruptly pulled into the air by the taller of the two, a surprising display of strength as he proceeded to hold the dog out arm's length and scold it sternly. The shorter of the two reached a hand out to you. His large eye sockets, a simple trait you hadn't bothered to pay attention too with Sans, were filled with his iris, large and focused.

"Are you alright?" he asked, pulling you up when you took his gloved hand. The bones of his fingers felt strange under the fabric, hard and thin, like trying to hold hands with a bag of pencils.

The dog, once sat down, immediately polished off the corndog, before sitting in smug satisfaction.

"I've been worse, no harm done," you replied reassuringly, smiling and letting your hand fall to your side. "Your dog has a lot of... persuasion skills."

The skeleton shook his head, eyes closing and his fists settling on his hips. His stance reminded you of that of a stern mother. "He is horribly greedy! I swear, if we didn't take him out for our afternoon skirmishes he'd be as big as a boulder."

The taller of the two, whom you could now see was holding a leash, nodded his head. "While Rock's drive is there, his restraint for greasy, fatty foods is not. It is utterly shameful!"

"Well," you started, looking down at the dog as he sniffed the ground for any remnants of the 'dog, "he is a dog, and they love to eat."

"Oh, we understand that," said the shorter one matter-of-factly, "but it's a habit he must learn to break if he is to improve in his training."

The dog's head lifted to sniff at your hand, and you smiled amusedly as he started to lick it before lifting your eyes to watch him shake his head. "He's taking obedience training?"

The taller leaned down (a bit too much into your personal space) to clip the leash to the dog's collar. It had bones trailing up its length. "Oh, no, we're training him for the royal guard."

You gave him an off-put look. "The royal guard?" The taller one nodded, most of the bundled-up leash cradled in his hand.

"The Royal Guard!" His chest puffed out. "They are strong, resilient, and loyal to the king!" You got the feeling he admired them greatly, but he spoke like he wasn't a part of it.

He looked to the side for a second, and his stance deflated. "They... disbanded, once monsters surfaced." He looked down at Rock, who was still trying to find leftovers on your hand. "But he will begin a new generation!"

The royal guard was one of the many things the monsters had quickly changed once they surfaced. The idea of monsters fighting to harvest human souls for their king was in the very least unnerving and significantly unneeded. So, instead, they broke apart, repurposing their strength in the ranks of the police force.

His gaze was solemn for a moment, but it passed as he straightened out, huffing in annoyance. "If only he learned discipline!"

The smaller skeleton's phone went off in his pocket, and he pulled swiftly. His face scanned the screen before he turned his companion. "Brother wants us home immediately! He says it's far too late for us."

He turned to you. "I apologize for our dog running you over! I'm sure he'd be happy for you to return the favor if you wanted to!" His brow bone knitted, and you idly wondered if he was a child or not with the way his face seemed to puff out in thought. "Or, maybe not. That wouldn't go too well."

He switched back to a more optimistic expression quickly, holding a hand up to point a finger at you. "If you see us again, feel free to say hi! We will probably say it back, you know!"

The taller one nodded. "Certainly! And, we will make sure this one..." he looked down Rock, who was watching a butterfly like it was the most captivating show in the world, leaning to each side as its delicate wings carried it to and fro, "is on a leash."

And the two were off to the entrance of the park, waving and tugging Rock behind them. You smiled a bit wryly, overstimulated from their energy. The walk home (thankfully not in the same direction they took) was quiet and lax, and you made it home only a bit later than you usually would, only slightly adding to your passing fluster.

Kicking off your shoes and setting them in a pair by your door, you checked your phone as you meandered to the bathroom. You swiped at it, before stopping and staring at your lock screen, long enough that the phone went to sleep.

The shorter one had mentioned in passing having a brother.

Your smile widened.

Maybe assuming that the two bar skeletons and the two park skeletons being related wasn't so presumptuous after all.


	3. Small Breaks In A Non-Stop Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People argue. People are drunk. People who are drunk argue. Sans has pun competition, and ups his charm game. Stretch is fuckin' stupid (but you know that).

As the days grew shorter and colder, more people in your life resigned themselves to staying indoors. They'd brave the weather only to go from one place to another, watching the snow drift carelessly through the sky from a window.

When the bell at the bar door rung and the usual pair of skeletons wiped their feet, you wondered if they felt the cold the same as you did. They had no skin, nerves or hair. They wore the same clothes in winter that they did in the summer. The shorter one didn't even seem to notice the small piles of snow on his shoulders until a bird woman in one of the booths wiped it off for him.

They chose the two bar seats closest to you and sipped at their iced drinks, idly waving at you and engaging the barkeep. Looking at Sans, you were once again reminded of the boy you had met at the park. They had the same smile and the same eyes, and if you recalled right they were the same height, give or take an inch.

After that first encounter with their sweetheart of a dog, you had greeted them every subsequent day you visited the park. You'd bothered the first few times to buy a corndog for Rock but the two had advised you against it, both for his health and for the fact that he would begin to expect it from you.

They were fresh and lively, asking questions about humans you would never have had second thoughts about and supplying their information about monsters. Magic was fascinating, and you watched who you had learned to be named "Papyrus" and "Blue" conjure up several bones that the dog had been enamored with, chasing them across the field with wild abandon.

That same itching question was clearer in your mind than ever as you pushed open the door to Grillby's. Surprisingly, the two skeletons were already sat at the bar, laughing and nursing drinks. Finally, you mustered up the courage to mill up to the bar and sit down next to them. Stretch visibly brightened, and you figured that he had already had a bit to drink.

"Hey... If it isn't my favorite person at the bar." he drawled, slinging an arm over your shoulder. His radius and ulna shifted and articulated in a way that had you cringing as they pressed against your neck. "Thank the stars there's finally someone in this universe who isn't a massive prick to keep me company."

You cocked a brow and looked over at his companion, who's tense gaze met yours. "Stretch," he gritted out, "shut up."

The man in question flailed the hand on your shoulder into the air in exasperation. "Who agreed-" he was interrupted by a fit of hiccups before composing himself. "Who came up with those awful nicknames?"

San's expression tightened even further, and you got the notion that Stretch's nonsense talk had some sense to it, and was something you shouldn't be hearing. "Stretch..."

Hesitantly, you put a hand on his shoulder. "I think you've had enough to drink, dude."

The tall skeleton waved your hand off, suddenly not very happy with you. "What's your problem anyway, huh?" His browbones furrowed. "Did you need something?"

You blinked, remembering the reason you had sat with them in the first place. "Oh, I... Uh, would you two happen to have brothers?"

The subsequent shift in Stretch's expression, and the delay the alcohol gave it, was something you wish you had recorded. From annoyance to confusion, and realization, then finally amusement, all painted on the stiff ivory bone. With the amusement was a hint of fondness, something you knew to be familial endearment.

Behind him, Sans relaxed, glad for the change in conversation and in Stretch's mood. "So you met Pap 'n Blue, huh? Aren't they fun?" he slurred. It seemed like he had drunk a few of his own drinks.

You nodded a bit more than needed, happy to have made the connection. Stretch sighed wistfully. "You've got your hands full, ay? Havin' to placate four annoying skeletons?"

You laughed. "I like seeing you four around now and then. It's refreshing." And you meant it. Although you all were acquaintances at best, they were interesting and amusing in their way.

Stretch and Sans were a pair of laid back bar-huggers and pleasant company for a hangover. Stretch tended to be a bit more down to earth and sharp, even to the point of being a little snappy. Sans, on the other hand, was in another realm, finding joy in the little things and favoring a good pun (to Stretch's dismay.) You had a gut feeling, however, that there was much more to these two that they weren't letting on.

Blue and Papyrus, however, were much more open and boisterous. Blue was a bit up-tight and almost childish, but had a surprisingly mature side to him when need be. Papyrus was a bit more self-centered, enjoying the occasional regale of tales you took to be a bit far-fetched but enjoyed nonetheless, and he seemed to be way more clever than he first appeared.

The combination of the four personalities, in the same house every day, however? The very idea suddenly clarified why the four always seem to be out and about most of the day.

"Do..." you started, searching for the right words. "Do you all get along well?" The looks they gave you sent you tripping over your words. "I-I-I mean, if-... If it's not... Too personal?"

Stretched chuckled. "To clarify, Blue's my brother and Papyrus is Sans's. We moved in together... 'bout two months ago? Issat right?" He looked back to Sans, who gave a noncommitted shrug, talking to Grillby cooly.

"I think we all get along smoothly, some... more than others..." His eye sockets squinted, looking to the side, and you were reminded of Papyrus's similar expression when he was deep in contemplation. You had assumed all four were brothers, with how similar they looked. But maybe it was just a skeleton thing, you couldn't be one to judge. You hadn't really heard these two talk about siblings, so their relationships were unknown.

It seemed, however, that Sans and Stretch did have their quarrels.

Many times, after a long day at work, you would sit at the bar stools and wait for them, only to be greeted by the two of them roughly shoving each other half-way in the door. Their stares would be harsh and they'd make subtle passes at each other throughout the evening.

You figured that out of all of them, these two should have the least bit of discourse between them, but they always seemed to silently be at each other's necks. You wondered how Papyrus and Blue dealt.

And so you had asked them, and they had replied in blissful ignorance to their brothers' arguing.

"All they do is sleep!" Papyrus had lamented, one hand on his hipbone as the other held Rock's leash. "I swear, they're lazier than rocks!"

Blue, who had been busy coaxing Rock into a sitting position, nodded in mutual annoyance. "I had asked my brother what his favorite hobby was, and he said it was 'flipping the pillow to the cold side!' That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Blue and Papyrus, on the other hand, got along swimmingly. They had all the same interests and skills, and shared a passion for staying active. Only once had you seen the two get mad at each other, and it had, like many of Sans and Stretch's interactions, started with a pun.

"Why the name Rock?" you had asked, walking along with them down the bike trail. It was an unusually warm day in November, and would probably be one of your lasts evenings at the park for a while. The trees had lost all their leaves by now, and most cars had thin sheets of ice on their hoods.

Papyrus put a gloved finger up. "That, I can answer! He was named after our late pet rock, from back when we lived Underground."

Blue nodded, walking to your left with the dog's leash in his hands. Off in the distance, Rock ran around wildly, chasing after leaves without a care in the world. "The fact that the name was passed on from one pet to another was so heart-warming! In fact, you could say it was... _sedimental_."

The cheeky grin on Blue's face was a carbon copy of Sans's when he let one of his puns lose, and the way his eye lights lit up momentarily took your breath away, distracting from Papyrus's vivid annoyance.

One thing that you thought would unsettle you more than it did was the level of articulation and expression that the skeletons were capable of. They were made of complete bone - that you were certain of. You had patted the top of Blue's head unconsciously a few times, and the hardness of the bone completely betrayed the ease of which his face had contorted into pure joy from the sentiment.

"Magic" had been your vague answer from Sans on a slow night. "Magic?" was your reply from Papyrus. You just settled down and wrote it off as that, and enjoyed the warm feeling you got in their company.

You went to sleep each night thinking about whether the weather would leave you in the bar with your beer buddies or at the park chasing after a white malamute. You started figuring out their schedules as best as you could, determining that both Papyrus and Sans had steady jobs and that Blue was trying to make it a habit to visit the gym each morning at 8.

Papyrus claimed that he was the ambassador of monsters, as the human who freed the Underground was a bit too young for government work. He also was passionate about his training regimen, and the two of you had geeked out together about time specifics and color-coding. He described extremely long runs, nutritious foods, and strenuous usage of his magic.

Magic was in and of itself a complete mystery to you. As Papyrus had, monsters could talk about it openly and freely, as they were used to it and used magic like breathing. But most humans detested it or constantly questioned it.

It worked in a way that actively defied every single law of nature and physics - until Sans had made a poor attempt to explain how it actually didn't.

It was nearing the icy cold of December, and for once in a long while Stretch wasn't at the bar. Sans looked more tired than usual, and so you tried to distract him with silly questions and your best attempts at puns. Until you had asked about magic.

His irises, simple white dots contrary to Blue's, had almost shone with passion as he started rattling off theories and facts. Apparently, he was an unmitigated genius when it came to physics and magic theory, and was happy to try dumb everything down for you.

You had never seen him this vivid, and his smile held a different sort of happiness. You came to realize you liked this happy better on him.

He had offered to walk you home that night. You had latterly stopped taking your car and simply resorted to bundle up and walk the 20 minutes to the bar. Quickly, you had refused, going on about making his trip longer and keeping him out in the cold, but he had put a hand up, hopping off of the stool. "Trust me, pal. I know a shortcut."

He had said this with a wink and a grin that suggested nothing good, but you simply asked him if he was warm enough and held the door open for him on your way out. Quietly, you two stepped out into the snow-speckled streets, and you gazed up in wonder at the small specks falling from the sky. Sans chuckled at your fascination.

"Hey, I got tired of this stuff real quick. Snowed a lot where we lived Underground, kinda stopped noticing it 'til we got to the surface." He held out a gloved hand, and a few pellets of snow landed and quickly melted. "Every time I see it, I feel like I'm back down there. 'S a weird feeling, y' get me?"

The snow continued to fall in gentle blankets as you two walked. The snow had started to slow down, and Sans put a hand on your shoulder. He was a couple of inches shorter than you, you noticed, and he nodded to a dark awning. "'S the shortcut I was tellin' you 'bout. C'mon."

You hesitated, but let your feet carry you with him. You dipped under it with him-

-and were right back on the street, a noticeable distance from where you had been before moments ago. Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water and Sans chuckled at your awe. "You fishin' for flies, pal?"

You had shut your mouth and clumsily caught up with him.

The rest of the now much shorter walk was quiet, but not strained. The sky was turning pink, and you stopped at the door to your apartment building. Sans had said his pleasantries, clapped you on the shoulder, and dropped a small item onto the sidewalk. You bent over, picked it up, and straightened out only to find no one standing where he had been.

The item in question was a folded piece of paper with a seven-digit number and a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sans is finally getting a piece of that ass. and, tbh, I think that san's big depresso would slowly ease up and he'd be a real science whiz and I think that would be cute and nice.


	4. You'd Better Ketchup!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans is after that ass jesus christ. reader is tired and doesn't know what oven mitts are, apparently. papyrus hates everyone shorter than him

After the smooth move from Sans, he started to walk you home more often, and Stretch would join the two of you every time. They were endearing and, even with their playful banter, kept you at ease.

It was even better, however, when they were thoroughly drunk.

They'd stumble down the sidewalk with you, laugh their asses off at the smallest things, and use their 'shortcuts' much more creatively. Stretch would spin you and you'd be halfway across town. Sans would point one way, and when you turn back you'd be at the park. If you knew anything about these two, you'd say they were showing off.

Sans, to your left, pulled out his phone and started chuckling as he typed. Stretch was bent over by a window, looking at the shop's "funny-as-fuck fruits", a hand rubbing at his chin contemplatively.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you asked Stretch if the three of you could keep going. Pulling out your device, Sans had sent you a picture of an oyster with mittens and a scarf. Beside you, Sans chuckled.

"He got a little... clammy."

The rest of the walk to your apartment was uneventful after Stretch and Sans had bickered over the joke. You had stopped at the front doors, and they had stopped their disagreement to wish you well. 

The door closed with a hollow thunk, and you took the stairs leisurely up to your room.

Your apartment was cozy, with an open living room, dining room, and kitchen floor plan and a single hallway adjacent to the front door that held your bathroom and bedroom. Your kitchen was immaculate, as you usually never used it, but your table had all your sketching supplies, arranged neatly but still taking up a decent portion of its surface.

You kicked your shoes off and padded to the bathroom, going through your nightly rituals in the pleasant silence of your apartment. You had contemplated playing some music, but figured it would distract you too much.

Your room, like the rest of the house, was neat yet lived in. All your posters, shelves, supplies and nick-nacks were arranged neatly in their little places, strategically placed to make the room look as pristine as possible.

You would admit scarcely the drastic extent of your perfectionism. No matter how many things you had or how often you used them, you were constantly making sure they were neat and simplistic in their place. You loathed going to other people's houses, as you had to restrain yourself from adjusting picture frames and books on shelves.

It was a good habit, though, as it kept your things findable and easy to look at, and you found calm in the process and result of sorting and cleaning up your things.

You settled into your bed, mulling on getting on your laptop or computer, but thought against it. You needed your sleep.

It didn't come.

For the better half of an hour, you sat in the dark of your room, the sounds of the city seeming way too loud. You couldn't focus on one noise, for soon another replaced it. It went from annoying to frustrating to downright aggravating.

Soon you threw the covers off and treaded to your living room, pointedly avoiding looking at the clock on your microwave. A little bit of sketching should help you wind down.

It wasn't until almost two in the morning that your eyelids started feeling heavy. You made your way back to the bedroom, fell onto the covers, and fell let sleep slowly grab hold.

Your sleep that night was short, dreamless, and deeply unsatisfying.

Once you woke up that morning, life seemed to work in slow-mo. It was one of your days off, which was great, but you loathed being unproductive. You let yourself sleep in a little later than usual, then took a cold shower to wake up and slipped on some shoes, taking the stairs two at a time as you decided you'd do some grocery shopping.

Once in a passing conversation that you were too drunk to recall the details of, Stretch had drawled on about the underground's best honey. In knowing him, you had found out that he was an avid honey fan, and he had tried every bottle under the sun.

So you had stashed it in your memories to pick it up later. Though you did have other groceries you also intended on picking up, your fascination had gotten the best of you.

Most of the time you'd simply get take-away for dinner, or have some microwave meal, so you didn't have too much to do in terms of shopping. But the quest for honey put you in a productive mood, so you decided you'd do some actual cooking.

As you mulled in the isles, the thought suddenly struck you that you had no idea what you were going to cook. A fresh, green meal sounded too boring, but you'd never properly cooked a chicken and you had animosity against breakfast dinners. 

So you resolved to give meatloaf a try.

Ingredients were, in theory, simple. Ground beef, propper seasonings, and a nice bottle of ketchup. As you rounded the corner to the condiments, wondering if you had a pan deep enough to house the loaf, a loud voice called your name out.

Papyrus and Sans were both gathered around a particular place by the condiment shelf, their own cart full of absurd foodstuffs. Papyrus, unlike his brother, was facing you. "Hi there! My ridiculous brother and I are in a bit of a disagreement, and I'm hoping you can settle it!"

You shuffled over, staring at the bottles of ketchup Sans held in his hands. You wondered if his fondness for ketchup mirrored Stretch's taste in honey. "What's the problem?"

Sans shrugged. "Paps says ketchup ain't tomato sauce. I'm tryin' to season with him, but he ain't budgin'." To prove a point you didn't quite get, he pushed at his brother's shoulder. Papyrus, as said, ain't budgin'.

"It isn't, Sans!" exclaimed Papyrus, throwing his hands up. It was almost surreal, seeing how tall he was, that his hands peaked over the top of the aisle. He seemed peeved, but almost playfully, his jaw quirking in a way that you could only assume was the start of a smile.

His wave of frustration passed, and he gestured to you. "Please confirm my opinion so he can put the ketchup away. I don't like being held back on my pasta cooking!" He was then quick to point a harsh finger at his brother, whose mouth had clicked shut hastily.

There were three ways you could do this. You could act indifferent and leave, as you barely knew these two, and you knew you had every right too. But you knew that would upset them both.

You also could take Papyrus's side, as he was right, and it would more than likely speed this interaction up for everyone. It would be the most sensible thing to do.

But.

You weren't in any rush, and you kind of wanted to goof around. So, option three presented itself.

"You know..." you began, and Papyrus's face immediately became suspicious. "If pasta sauce and ketchup are both just blended tomatoes, and tomatoes are fruit, doesn't that mean they're both just smoothies?"

San's grin split wide and Papyrus's eye-sockets (?) went wide. He slapped a hand on his face and seemed to be cursing many things under his breath. Finally, he looked at where you stood, muffling laughter. "I trusted you!"

You chuckled and he turned and stormed away in frustration, Sans throwing you a wave before waddling after him. 

Looking down, he had tucked a bottle of ketchup into your cart.

The rest of the trip was generally uneventful, and you almost drifted off standing in line. As the day went on, the meatloaf almost combust, and your hands blister from multiple burns of the pan, the lack of sleep started to catch up to you. 

You moved slowly, reacted slower, and had resorted to setting alarms so you could get shut-eye without completely passing out. The loaf was not worth the trouble, but you attempted to eat it almost out of spite.

Its texture, combining both a burned and raw feeling, made you instantly spit it out. You tossed the rest of the meat, stowed away the pan, and threw most of the seasonings into the cabinet in your kitchen you were almost certain was a portal to another dimension. You did, however, keep the ketchup.

You sat on your couch, wondering why you had even gone to the store in the first place, before you groaned as you realized you had never bought the honey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's two days late rip. the apartment i just moved into has no wifi so I wrote all of this loitering in a starbucks yesterday and had no time to proof it until now, where my ass is parked in that same starbucks. i might get my proper writing schedule on in time for sunday, but ill be cuttin it close


	5. A Step in the Right Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice, chill afternoon with two boisterous skeletons. No romance here, whatsoever.

As winter rolled in the air, you found yourself looking forward to bundling up. You loved being in thick, warm clothes, and loved the comfort they gave from the cold. It felt so secure, being all bundled up, and you didn't have to worry too much about matching colors or styles when they had a more practical use.

You dressed in sweaters, jackets and thick hoodies every chance you got and even allowed yourself the occasional visit to the park after work to see how winter treated the grass. The December chill had set in, and not many people were at the park this time of year.

The leaves had all left the trees, making way for the bright golden afternoon sun to shine through the thin branches. It smattered all over the sidewalk, outlining the damp spots on its surface from cold, wet shoes and paws. On the sun-speckled path, you concentrated a bit on the patterns they made, but couldn't make any sense of their placement.

You walked down one of the brighter paths, smiling warmly at the wind as it played in your hair, loosening up your scarf and billowing your coat out. You wished the weather was always like this, where clothes came the more the merrier.

Turning a corner around a thick-trunked tree, you spotted Blue, Papyrus, and Rock out on their usual evening outing. Papyrus was reeling back his arm to throw a pitch, and Rock was all to hyped up to register you meandering up to the group.

Blue did, however, and you waved, smiling even as the wind whisked your scarf up to cover most of your chin. Your hair was tousled a little bit as you sped up to meet him in the field. Warm breath clouded up around your face as he smiled and waved back, and your mind wondered dreamily if he breathed, as you saw no clouds by him.

Most physics didn't apply to these boys, as they were skeletons first and foremost, but the simpler things found ways to assert themselves as rules in their being. 

They still needed to eat, but they didn't know where it went. They showered in a process cringingly called "bone-bleaching", and their bones did shine pristinely. And, a fact that Blue brags on about, is their need to upkeep their physical prowess by going to the gym. 

They had no muscles to speak of, but you were subtly aware of their strength as you watched Papyrus pitch the ball far across the field, and let your eyes follow Rock as he quickly followed the ball out of sight.

Blue was unusually silent while he watched the wind wave your hair a bit more, but as you turned back to him he broke out in a blue-cheeked grin. "Hello! Isn't his throw admirable?"

Papyrus joined you two and, at the word of praise, put a hand to his chin and closed his sockets in what he must have interpreted as a cool pose. "It was, wasn't it?" His arms shifted crudely, and you figured that, if he had any muscle tissue affixed to his bones, he would have been subtly flexing.

You nodded, and the three of you dipped naturally into light conversation, simply making comments on the weather and delving slightly into the quality of each other's days. 

It wasn't out of lack of conversation topics, but instead the boys' ability to make even the most mundane things amusing. They'd talk about the "Magic Man in the Moon" who made rain and snow, as said by their brothers, and how they'd recently had a cook-off that burned the walls of their kitchen for the fourth time.

"Oh, geez, you've burned up your kitchen that many times?" you asked, eyes widening a bit. Papyrus nodded a bit regretfully.

"Yes, the fourth time this month!" The statement had made you slightly pity their brothers, as it was only the 12th.

Days like these left you happy, as these two just seemed to lighten your mood. They were energetic and bright, full of drive and always optimistic.

They did get up to wild shenanigans, however, like in the present. You smiled as Papyrus gave chase to Rock, who had managed to hop up and snag his scarf.

Next to you, Blue had cleared his throat - a useless gesture, but something you supposed was just reflex. "Can I ask you something?" He turned to you, eye-ridges knitted slightly.

You nodded, watching him as his round eye lights shrunk a bit and darted to the ground for a second. "Why... Well, you seem like someone who's always busy and likes to be productive, which is admirable for someone with such a packed schedule. So, why is it that you spend some of that time with us?"

The question caught you a bit off guard. The trees rustled slightly in the breeze, birds whistled, and in the far background, Papyrus's general exclamations of annoyance sounded out, but everything seemed muted and soft.

Once the question registered, however, you smiled. "I don't... always want to keep busy." 

You looked out to the field, watching Rock as he bounded around with a red scarf in his maw. "Sometimes I like to slow down and enjoy myself, and you two are fresh and dynamic. You're a nice relief from the monotony of life and work."

You looked back to him, and the wind blew at your hair a bit more. You felt your cheeks warm up in the slightly chilly breeze, and they raised a bit as you gave him your best reassuring smile. "I enjoy myself when I'm with you two."

The look Blue gave you was something not too unlike a puppy, with wide eyes and blue cheeks. He seemed to study you, searching for something. He stared for a moment, and the trees rustled and the birds sang, and something seemed to click.

Then he smiled wide, his eyes almost as bright as stars, and everything around you became louder again. "Well, I'm glad we have that effect on you!"

He held a hand out, and you looked at him quizzically. He chuckled. "Things like this are more official in the Underground, but I'd be joyed if you'd be my official friend!"

You shook his hand with no hesitation.

Soon, Papyrus was able to retrieve his scarf, albeit his return had him a little bit sweaty (another thing you just had to accept was possible for skeletons) and the three of you laughed a bit at the predicament as the sun started to set. 

You all made it to the gates of the park and you waved, going your way as they went theirs. You focused on the path ahead of you, lit up by the street lamps. You were stopped, however, by Blue calling for you.

You turned back and he was heading towards you, his phone pulled out. His expression was determined, and for a second you thought you had forgotten something.

Then he met you and lifted his phone a bit more, where a contact page had been opened. "Would you be alright with giving me your number, my friend?" he asked with a smile.

Happily, you grabbed the phone, and your contact name had already been set.

"Coolest Human Friend"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Blue have a crush? Will Papyrus ever get his chance??? Will Rock ever get belly rubs?????  
> Yes, actually, he will get belly rubs.  
> This week's update is a day early because I might not have access to any wifi tomorrow and I'll take any chance I get! If you guys have any ideas for future chapters (cause I've got a big ass list of chapters i wanna do but it could be b i g g e r) just put 'em in the comments. I'd love to hear what ya'll wanna see!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, nasties. Hopefully, these endnotes would one-day have artwork in them, but for now, they're empty. Instead, have my favorite quote from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.
> 
> Act 1, Scene 5, line 83, from Capulet to Tybalt:  
> You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed?
> 
> my tumblr is @coasilous03 if you wanna dm me :)


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